Are You Iron Fist?
by Skysalla
Summary: Five times Clint was asked that gawd-awful question, and one time he wasn't.


**Author's Notes: **My first 5+1 whaaaaaaaat?

There is a lot of minor comic things scattered throughout. But I know for a fact non comic readers will still be able to get this. The idea pulled from Fraction and Aja's run on the Hawkeye comic. For those that don't know, they also worked on the Iron Fist comics and because Danny and Clint sort of look alike (especially when comparing Aja's drawings), Fraction started having random civilians ask Clint this question in the Hawkeye comics.

As always, thanks to Jess for making the grammar right.

* * *

><p>1<p>

"Are you...Iron Fist?"

It is really late, or early depending on how you look at it and the question comes seemingly from nowhere so it takes a minute for Clint to place the asker at the near empty gas station. Clint just wants to get home so he decides against answering the question, but the man had walked around his minivan and was now standing in front of Clint's bike. "Iron Fist. Wow. My kids are going to be so jealous."

Clint looks at the man and drags a hand across his face. "You got the wrong guy, man." He silently wills the gas to pump faster as the man begins shaking his head vehemently.

"Nu uh. My kids collect all those superhero cards. I pay attention! I'm a good father!" The man seems to be protesting a bit too much and Clint tilts his head towards the man with the intention of telling him that he didn't really care how many cards his kids collected or whether or not the man was father of the year. The guy however is obviously not great at reading social cues as he goes on.

"So I missed some baseball games. I'm not perfect. I'm not a superhero. I know my husband wants me to be, but he stays at home with the kids all damn day. I have a job!" The guy starts pacing back and forth beside Clint's bike. "I just work so hard and I need -"

Clint blinks at the sudden silence and realizes the guy is staring at the bandage that is covering half of Clint's neck before it disappears under his jacket. "Oh man, I'm such a dick." It's some sort of weird apology and the man comes and grabs Clint's hand off the gas pump. "You literally risk your life for people you don't even know and here I am complaining to you about late hours and missed baseball games."

He groans as the man clasps both hands around Clint's. "I love them all so much. I'm just under so much stress at work and I can't be there like I want. How do you do it, Iron Fist?" The gas pump finishes filling his tank, but Clint can't shake the man free from his hand.

"I don't." Clint finally sighs. "Most of us don't." It wasn't the answer the man had been expecting and his eyes go wide. "Most superheroes don't have kids. We don't get families. Those who do...well they have considerably more problems to deal with." He thinks for a moment of Luke and Jessica and the constant string of worries they deal with when it comes to the safety of their little girl.

Suddenly the man is wrapped around Clint and it takes all Clint has in him not to put the guy forcibly down into the cement face first. "I'm so sorry." the man all but weeps into his ear. "We had a fight. But you give up your own happiness for people like me and I can't even be there for my kids!" Clint can't seem to gently get the man to let go of him and so he resigns himself to stand still and softly pat the stranger on the back a couple times. "Jason was right. I'm a terrible father."

It takes another minute of the man muttering nonsense into Clint's ear before he steps back with some sort of wild look in his eyes. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to quit my job. Fuck them." He is holding Clint at arm's length and it's clear that nothing Clint could say would have any effect on the remainder of this conversation so he stays silent. "People like you give me the ability to have a family. Jason is right, I gotta cherish them. I can't put work first!"

He's being hugged again, but this time it is brief and the man is happily rushing back to his van. "Iron Fist, thank you! You gave my kids their father back!" The van is pulling out of the small gas station with a little more speed than Clint thinks a minivan should be able to manage but so long as the guy is gone, he frankly doesn't care.

"No problem random gas station guy." Clint mutters as he pulls the receipt he's never going to look at again from the gas station machine and shoves it into his pocket. "I'll be sure to tell Iron Fist."

* * *

><p>2<p>

He's at the park when he hears the question again. Lucky is running full speed away from him after the stick that was just thrown when the woman walks up to him and asks that stupid question.

"Huh?" Is his more than graceful response when he turns to look at the woman whose question he'd like to pretend he hadn't heard.

She shifts awkwardly, her own dog pulling on his leash towards a returning Lucky. "I saw you on the news last night. That whole burglary thing on 17th avenue?"

Lucky runs back up to him and Clint starts to wrestle the stick from his obstinate dog's mouth. "That wasn't me."

"Uh huh." She agrees with him the same condescending way Natasha does after he has suggested a plan and Clint groans while he continues to work on getting his dog to relinquish his hold on the stick. "I may not have great vision, but I recognize a superhero when I see one."

She leans over as her dog sniffs around Clint's feet. "Lady I wasn't anywhere near 17th avenue last night. Promise."

He tries not to be weirded out when she takes a deep breath next to his ear. But it reminded him too much of Wolverine and frankly whenever Wolverine smelled you you couldn't help but be a little uncomfortable. "I always knew Iron Fist would be hot in person."

With a big step sideways he pulls away from her, his feet get caught up in her dogs leash and he goes down with a soft thump on the grass. "I promise you, I'm not Iron Fist."

She stoops down beside him and runs her fingers through his hair. "It's okay. I won't tell the tabloids." When she leans forward and takes another sniff of him he has no other choice but to push her away. "Everyone knows you superheros have reputations to uphold." She's pouting out her lip in some weird attempt at being sexy and he shakes his head.

"Seriously, lady. I'm just here to exercise my dog." He points to where Lucky has abandoned his stick and is barking at a bird up in the tree. The woman doesn't follow his gaze. She looks hungry in a way that tells Clint nothing good could come of continued interaction with her. Her hand stretches out toward him again, and he catches it before she can pet him a second time. "Look I can't do this here. But why don't you come by Avengers tower tonight...at eight?"

The woman takes a moment to consider this before picking up her own dog and standing. She nods and grins at where Clint is still sitting firmly on his ass. "I'll be delighted to see you then, sexy."

Clint groans and falls onto his back as she walks away. He trusts Jarvis will know better than to let the woman in, but just in case he would have to remember to call Danny when he got home.

* * *

><p>3<p>

If there was one thing Clint Barton was meticulous about, it was dental hygiene.

He flossed religiously, brushed for twice the recommended time length and had invested in high end dentist sponsored everything. While he may not be able to prevent his body from getting damaged, Clint had taken every precaution possible to keep his teeth looking nice. This of course included frequent visits to the dentist.

It was on one such visit when he hears the question again. He tries to ignore it, he really does, but over zealous fanboys have a habit of getting in your face when you least want them to. The latest guy drops himself down beside Clint before the four words that were starting to plague Clint's nightmares have even left the guy's lips.

For his part, Clint can only turn awkwardly in his chair away from the guy and hope to block the man out with a cold shoulder. It is just his luck that it doesn't work. "Ohmigawd I can't believe it's really you! Who knew I shared a dentist with Iron Fist? Just wait till the guys hear about this."

The guy leans over onto the armrest of his chair, dangerously close to pushing Clint over the edge. "How scary was that dragon, really? Like I've heard the legends of Iron Fist and I know the interviews and everything...but tell me about it?"

Clint picks up a magazine from the table in front of him and tries to give the guy a hint that he's not interested in talking about Iron Fist when the fanboy pulls out his phone and leans it out in a not so discreet selfie.

"Take that picture and I'll break your phone." Clint growls as he angles the magazine to block his face from the man's camera.

"I promise I won't put it on the fansites!" He is practically begging, but his arm has lowered enough that Clint doesn't have to worry about the picture being taken.

"No." Clint grunts as he flips through the magazine filled with stupid articles that he doesn't think actually qualify as journalism. He's had a rough week and he's not in the mood to play along with the fanboys today.

"Wow. who knew Iron Fist was such an ass." The guy slumps back in his chair, now leaning away from Clint.

"Mr. Robertson?" The dental hygienist calls from the counter and the fanboy stands and sulks over to follow the lady to the back room.

Clint sighs and throws the magazine back on the table. For a fanboy he was incredibly ill informed as to who his supposed heroes actually were.

* * *

><p>4<p>

He has just finished ordering and is about to hand his money to the cashier when the young man behind the register asks the question. Clint growls out a "sure" as he drops the bills on the counter and walks away without taking his change or receipt.

For a minute he leans against the wall trying not to glare daggers into the cashier's head while he waits for his food to be ready when he hears a jovial voice to his left.

"You know, Daniel, your meditation really seems to have changed your heart beat. Almost didn't recognize you." Clint jerks his head to look at the speaker and deflates at the smirking face of one Matt Murdock.

Clint sighs as Matt leans against the wall beside him. "Matthew." He says in greeting.

"Clinton." Matt responds, his voice still tinged with laughter at Clint's earlier conversation. "Trying to moonlight as Iron Fist?"

"Well you know, whatever gets me a discount on tacos." Clint shrugs.

Matt's eyebrows raise behind his red tinted sunglasses. "Discounts for Avengers? That's a new one. Better not let Spider-Man know."

Clint was about to respond when the guy behind the counter called out the next order. "Number 16. Iron Fist?" Despite how much it pains him, he steps forward to take the baggy of food. But he doesn't leave, not yet.

"Tell me counselor," Clint begins, his movement halted just in front of Matt. "What are my options for a restraining order of some kind?"

Matt's carefully held laughter breaks free at Clint's question and it takes him a second to calm down enough to answer. "Against Danny? Easy. Although I'm sure the good Captain would love the problems that will bring for the Avengers."

Clint shakes his head, trusting Matt's radar sense to pick up on the movement. The lawyer obviously does as he continues. "Against the name? Possible, but a lot harder to enforce without a specific individual to hold it against. Against mistaken identity? Sorry, Clint, unless it leads to an arrest there's nothing I can do for you there."

Matt's order is called out next and he steps to the counter to retrieve it. The two fall in step together as they leave the taco place. Once they're out on the street corner, they start to head their separate ways. "Maybe you should hire a publicist. Get your name out there more. Then people will be asking him about you."

Matt is trying to be helpful, Clint knows that. But he can't help the frustration that builds within him at the suggestion. Clint doesn't respond as he watches the blind lawyer tap his way down the sidewalk, his bag of takeout swinging gently in his free hand. He would never hire a publicist. Although he knew a few superheros who had done it, it didn't seem to be worth the effort. But it was at the very least the most productive answer he'd ever had.

* * *

><p>5<p>

Clint's head was doing a splendid rendition of the bell portion of "Carol of the Bells" when he heard the question. It takes way more effort than it should for him to stop and and address the questioner. He turns with a flurry of words ready to belittle whoever it is who has dared ask him this stupid question. The only person within striking distance is an eight year old boy.

The boy's friends are watching from the park at the end of the block and it's clear this kid has had the guts to chase him when his friends did not. "It's you isn't it?" Clint looks now at the boy's shirt, green with the golden yellow dragon that Clint knows for a fact is tattooed across his friend Danny's chest. "You're Iron Fist."

There's a hope and admiration that Clint can't ignore in this kid's face and so he swallows his pride and his anger and nods. "Yeah. At your service."

The kid turns and bellows back towards the park, "I TOLD YOU IT WAS HIM!" And Clint scrunches his eyes shut as the volume bangs around his already battered head. Six more kids clamor over the fence that is intended to keep them safe and run full speed at him. They are jumping up and down around him, while pulling his shirt and each chattering different questions with a speed Clint is pretty sure would rival Quicksilver's.

"Whoa whoa, calm down!" He holds out his hands to shush them and the group obediently stops chattering. They are all staring at him with an awe that Clint thinks is frankly undeserved considering the sheer number of super heroes these kids likely see in a given week.

"Will you…" The first kid starts and looks down nervously, his own small hand clenching and unclenching.

"Please?!" Another kid pips up, pulling on Clint's sleeve.

"Can we see your fist?!" A third kid this time and Clint groans as his right hand is pulled down to eight year old level.

"Make it glow!"

He jerks his hand back towards him and they all take an awkward step back as if expecting his hand to combust in front of their eyes. "I'm not -" he falters, his own eyes going between each set of overly wide eyes in front of him. "I can't. My uh, chi is blocked."

Overall they look disappointed, but the first kid nods understandably. "I heard that could happen." The child takes his backpack off slowly and digs into it. "Will you sign my picture Mr. Iron Fist, sir?"

In the boy's hands an Avengers coloring book and a crayon that he offers up to Clint with an embarrassed smile. The page is flipped open to a fully colored image of Danny punching out a dragon and Clint can't help but be impressed with the coloring skill this boy has demonstrated.

On the opposite page is an uncolored picture of himself in his old Hawkeye garb, bow and arrow aimed directly at the colorer. Clint notices his own picture is distinctly lacking in color. "What's your name, kid?"

"Carlos."

Clint takes a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose and get the pounding in his head to focus the page back into one image before he puts the crayon to the brightly colored page. He can't for the life of him remember at that moment if Danny's identity is public and so he scribbles "To Carlos - Keep on punching dragons. Love Iron Fist" across the bottom of the picture.

He tucks the crayon back into the book and hands it back to the kid. "It's really well colored."

Carlos takes the compliment with an expression that makes Clint wonder if the child has just swallowed a fistful of sour candies. The boy's face pinches happily and his neck scrunches embarrassed down into his shirt as he tries to burrow into his clothes at a compliment from one of his favorite superheros.

"I got a meeting with...Power Man, so...stay in school and all that." Clint salutes the children and they stand obediently on the corner as he crosses the street to the grocery store.

* * *

><p>+1<p>

Clint is out for a jog when he comes across a burning building. It's a small building of about four stories and maybe thirty units with smoke billowing free of several windows on the third floor. People in various states of undress are rushing out of the building, many of them crying.

With a drag of his sleeve across his sweaty hairline, Clint halts to take in the situation. At least three people on the ground are on their cell phones and it would only be a matter of time before the fire department arrived. What drew his attention however was the arm pulling the curtains open on the fourth floor directly above one of the burning units.

Before Clint can think about consequences, he is running directly towards the building and free climbing up the side to grab hold of a balcony on the second floor. He pulls himself up to stand on the railing of the balcony and leaps to a third floor balcony diagonally across from the one he was on. With a few more leaps he is on the fourth floor two units over from where he'd seen the arm.

The girl had pulled open the balcony door and was now standing on the deck with a dish rag held over her mouth. As the wind shifted the smoke was suddenly changing directions to blow towards her and the deck between them. He lost sight of her as the grey cloud moved.

Clint's lungs were already hurting from his long run and the smoke wasn't going to do him any favors. Quickly he pulls the zipper on his purple hoodie up all the way and drags the fabric over his nose. It offered little protection from smoke inhalation, but it would have to do. There isn't much time to waste so he jumps where the balcony between them is no longer visible and lands with a tuck-roll on the small area.

"STAY BACK!" He yells, hoping that she can hear him and that his next leap wouldn't be onto the very person he was about to save. His eyes are watering from the smoke cloud he is literally standing inside of, and Clint squints to keep the ash from obscuring his vision. He has to move fast while breathing as little as possible.

Within moments he is on her balcony, she hadn't been standing too close to his edge so he fortunately didn't smash her when he landed. Her eyes open in shock at his appearance, but she is quick to follow his instructions as he yells "Roof!" and put his hands together in front of him to give her a boost.

She puts her barefoot into the cradle of his interlocked hands and pushes off his shoulders as he heaves her towards the roof. He knows she made it, but can't be sure what is actually on the roof or how sturdy it is up there. As the flames start encroaching towards the fourth floor, Clint climbs up onto the banister of her balcony and free runs up the side of the building. His muscles complain as he strains to pull himself up onto the roof. Once he is over the edge, he spends a moment on all fours coughing in the somewhat fresher air.

The girl had crawled to the other side of the building away from the flames and was looking down for a way off the roof. "Oh god, what now?" He can tell she is near tears.

"We get off the roof." Clint hacks, spitting ashen colored saliva onto the roof. He pushes to his feet and moves towards her, getting clear of the worst of the smoke. There weren't a whole lot of options for where to go. Before she can ask how they do that, Clint kicks at the rusting HVAC unit on the top of the building and pries off a panel.

She watches him for a moment as he hurls the metal panel into a large glass window of some bloke's bachelor pad on the much taller building next door. The glass cracks and shatters as the metal smashes into the dead center of the window. "Oh my god." Her eyes go wide with recognition. "Are you -"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm Iron Fist. Get over here, we gotta move." Clint gestures over and she immediately obeys, her eyes still wide in amazement and something else Clint can't be bothered to decipher just then. When she is close enough he scoops her up in his arms and jogs away from the edge to get a running start at the window. He takes a moment to adjust his grip on her and calculate how much power he'd need with the extra weight. "Hold on." He mutters to her as he starts a running leap towards the broken window.

She screams in his ear as they clear the gap between the buildings and he does his best to protect her as they land in the apartment. There was no other choice but to roll as they hit ground and Clint could feel the shards of glass digging through the thin sleeves of his workout hoodie. When they stopped, she held on for several long minutes before finally detangling from him and brushing a few pieces of glass off her own shirt.

The owner of the apartment either slept like the dead or wasn't home and Clint couldn't bring himself to care as he stood to stretch his back. The girl is looking at him funny and he helps her to her feet, walking with her to the door of the apartment. When they hit the elevator Clint finally gives in, "What?"

She startles, whether from his question or the ding of the building's elevator, Clint can't be sure. "I thought-" She hesitates as they step into the elevator. "I thought you might be Hawkeye." Blush creeps up on her soot dirtied face. "I'm sure you get that a lot."

Clint sputters as the short elevator ride comes to a stop at the ground floor and she steps out. He can't quite bring himself to move just yet. The girl slows when he doesn't follow and turns back to him. "Thanks for saving my life, Mr. Iron Fist."


End file.
